The Devil’s Game
Until he was standing right in front of Vito, close enough to smell the faint scent of expensive cologne and something darker… whiskey, maybe, or scotch.
Vito stood up in one smooth motion, and suddenly the space between them disappeared.
In one swift movement, Vito had him pinned against the desk, the exact spot where Vito had just been sitting.
Aiden gasped, his hands flying back to brace himself against the wood. "What–"
But the words died in his throat.
He was utterly confused about the emotions rushing through him. His brain was screaming at him, loud and insistent.
‘You don't want to be here. You don't want to be here.’